Supper is over and bed-time awaits

The moon has shrunk to a silver cowl

My bedroom window is rimmed with ice

As I watch and wait for the owl

 

Waiting for the owl waiting for the owl

The woods echo to its supernatural screech

Waiting for the owl waiting for the owl

That ghostly voice more vivid than speech

 

Is it always the same owl or has it a sibling?

Beak no doubt red with blood from a mouse

Its gleaming talons, sharp as any needle

From my mum's wicker basket in the house

 

Waiting for the owl waiting for the owl

The woods echo to its supernatural screech

Waiting for the owl waiting for the owl

That ghostly voice more vivid than speech

 

The owl did not come tonight I miss its cry

I hope it did'nt eat poison and die